


One Loose Thread

by ShanaRHager



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Angst and Feels, Friendship, Gen, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaRHager/pseuds/ShanaRHager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendships are not to be taken for granted.  They are more delicate than an old sweater.  One loose thread, and it all falls apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Thread Itself

**Prologue: The Thread Itself**

            Douglas Jay Falcon was a man of many hats—F-Zero racer and bounty hunter were his most frequent ones.  He was also among the original twelve Smashers as one of the four original unlockables.  His steady rise to fame and notoriety in the Smash tournaments was courtesy of his taunts and his mighty Falcon Punch.  The ascent had made him a little cocky and arrogant, but—he also wore a hat that very few knew about, and that was the hat of a best friend.

            Luigi Mario was also a man of many hats, but he was only known as a plumber and Mario’s little brother.  He, too, was among the Original 12 and the original four secret characters.  His place in Smash was secured courtesy of his wacky fighting style, his wavedash in Melee, and his heart of gold.  His upswing in popularity, and thus his confidence, was courtesy of the Year of Luigi and the Death Stare which followed its demise.  He could hold his own with top-tier fighters, yet he stayed quiet and humble whenever someone brought that up.  His gentleness won most of the Smashers over to his side, and one of them was Captain Falcon.

            For sixteen years, they forged a friendship filled with love, loyalty and trust.  During Team Battles, they shared a chemistry surpassed only if Mario was the teammate.  If they faced each other, then the respect each showed for his opponent could be seen with the naked eye.  In between tournaments, they exchanged letters and invitations to sports tournaments, kart racing or the F-Zero Grand Prix.  When Tabuu threatened the tournaments and the Smashers’ lives, they stuck together as they did battle against him, defeating him after a grueling fight.  It was after that incident that Luigi became more open with Douglas, confiding his deepest darkest secrets and telling him that nobody had stood by his side for so long before.  Both vowed never to take the time they spent together for granted.

            And then came the day a secret character could only dream about, when the two of them were finally moved to the starting roster for the fourth tournament.  They met up at their favorite restaurant and showed each other the hand-written letters informing them of this.  That night, they celebrated at a posh nightclub.  The same nightclub where Falcon brought Luigi to cheer him up after his year was over.

            But, as with all relationships, there were choppy waters, moments when they didn’t see eye-to-eye.  Sometimes, Falcon would let his pompousness get the better of him, or Luigi didn’t agree with one of Falcon’s decisions.  Either way, words would be exchanged, and not a fortnight later, one of them would feel terribly sorry and bring the other a peace offering, usually something sweet, and they’d gobble goodies while talking things over, and everything would be as good as new.

            Normally.

            However, over a year into the new tournament, there would come a big fight.  A fight where tempers exploded and hidden tensions reared their ugly heads.  A fight where a single thread would come loose and unravel the trust and respect that had taken 16 years to establish.  And this time—there would be no happy ending.

 

            “L, take it easy!  He’s not that hurt,” balked Falcon.

            “‘Not that hurt’?  Go see for yourself and then tell me he’s not that hurt!” cried Luigi, tears trailing down his face.

            “I know you’re worried for him, and you have every right to be,” stated Falcon, reaching for the anguished plumber, “but…”

            “Don’t touch me!” Luigi snapped, flinching away from him.  “You just _had_ to do it, didn’t you?!”

            Falcon stiffened.  “It had to be done, and you know it.”

            “ _Had_ to be done?!  Are you serious?  You were doing just fine out there!  A smash attack was all you needed to win, but no.  You had to go crazy with your Falcon Punch, and now my bro’s in the hospital because of you!”

            The battle against Mario was as clear as day in Falcon’s memory.  The stage.  The fireballs.  The Cape.  F.L.U.D.D.  Mario meter-smashing him over and over with his forward aerial.  The repeated up tilts.  The intensity.  And halfway through the match, Falcon had gotten fed up.  He was fighting for glory, not for this!  Frustration took over, and it wasn’t long before he was Falcon Punching and Raptor Boosting his way to the top.  He honestly thought that Mario could take it.  He wasn’t genuinely trying to hurt him.  But at the end of the match, his victory came to a screeching halt when he saw some Toads carrying Mario to Dr. Mario’s office.  Guilt-stricken, he’d followed them.  But by the time they got there, Luigi had been notified.  And judging by the look on his face, Falcon had a lot of groveling to do.

            “C’mon, man.  I didn’t mean to…”

            “Liar.”  Luigi cut him off.  “I saw you in the viewing room.  I saw you getting frustrated over his tactics!”

            “Wha…?” gasped Falcon, sounding both annoyed at the interruption and stung over Luigi’s condemnation.

            “That’s right, Falcon.  I _saw_ you.  And this is all your fault.  All of it.  Now, here I am, sitting in the doctor’s office, wondering if my big bro is going to be okay!”

            “Look, he’s been through worse than this,” Falcon tried to reassure him.  “He’ll make it.”

            “Oh, that’s cold comfort, coming from the guy who was nearly beating him into oblivion,” sniffed Luigi.  “How hard was it to just stop the match when you noticed something was up?  Surely, you would’ve preferred a ‘no contest’ if it meant that nobody was seriously hurt!”

            “He seemed fine to me,” protested Falcon.

            “That’s because you weren’t paying attention, were you?  If Dr. Mario gives me bad news about him, I swear…”

            That was it for Captain Falcon.  “You know why you need him so much?  Huh?” he barked.  “It’s because you can’t even protect yourself!  You always need him to look after you, to help you judge right from wrong, to bail you out and to save you from whatever trouble you brought upon yourself!  With him around, you can reassure yourself that you’re not what you really are—sad, weak and pitiful!  If he leaves you alone for even a second, then you start messing your pants!  And if something happens to him, you blame others to make yourself feel better, because you want to hide how whiny, needy and dependent on him you are!!”

            If Douglas Jay Falcon had kept those words to himself, or perhaps said something to defuse the situation, then this is where the argument would’ve stopped.  If it had stopped here, then he wouldn’t have been permanently cast out of Mario’s circle of friends.  If it had stopped here, then neither of them would’ve been left sifting through the wreckage of trust and loyalty, searching for something to salvage.  If it had stopped here, then Falcon wouldn’t have spent the afternoon under Dr. Mario’s care each time he faced Luigi in combat.  If it had stopped here, then it would’ve been easily patched up like the other quarrels.  And Falcon wouldn’t have lain awake for sleepless nights, wishing he could take those words back.

            But it’s too late for that now, because this isn’t where it stops.

            This is where it all begins.


	2. Happier Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any lyrics.

**Happier Times**

**_“You’ve got a friend in me_ **

**_You’ve got a friend in me_ **

**_When the road looks rough ahead_ **

**_And you’re miles and miles from your nice, warm bed…_ **

**_You just remember what your old pal said_ **

**_Boy you’ve got a friend in me_ **

**_Yeah, you’ve got a friend in me…”_ **

**1999**

            The famed racer hopped onto a platform and struck a flamboyant pose.  “Show me ya moves!” he challenged.

            BOING!  The underdog in green leaped towards him and punched forward with an enlarged fist.  He followed this up with a breakdance sweep, and then his up-B.

            **PIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGG!**

            “Yes!” crowed Falcon as he caught his opponent with the Raptor Boost, sending him reeling in a burst of flame.

            “Yahoo!” shouted Luigi as he rapidly spun in place, sucking the Captain into a Cyclone of his making.  Cleverly, he shot some fireballs to deter Falcon from trying anything funny.

            Falcon chuckled.  “You know what you’re doing, I’ll give you that.  But let’s see if you can handle _this_.  Falcon Kick!”

            “Whoops, you missed me!” sang Luigi as he dodged and went back on the offensive.

            “Oh, yeah?  I’ll get you next time!”  Falcon unleashed his Knee of Justice, launching Luigi diagonally upward.

            “That all you got?” he asked teasingly when he recovered.  He blindsided him with his “sissy-fists” and then nailed him with his jump kick and a flurry of down aerials.  However, Falcon got the last laugh, courtesy of another Raptor Boost.

            “Oh, it’s on now!” laughed Luigi as he jumped to his feet.  “It’s go time!  Yahoo!”

            The battlefield rang with the two men’s shouts as they continued to exchange blows.  They were two weeks into this new affair called Smash Bros, and already, they were making themselves at home.  The two first bonded when they commiserated over their shared status as secret characters, and the fact that some form of racing was present in their respective universes.  Falcon was a bit of a jock, but surprisingly, he didn’t look down on the plumber, using his confidence and swagger to ease his nervousness instead.  Sure, there was the bit about the tier list and that Falcon was ranked higher, but they were managing to work past that.  Each passing day provided more opportunities to know each other a little better, and they jumped at each of them.

            Falcon noticed that Luigi was quickly getting the hang of this whole Smash thing.  Despite being a “clone”, his unique personality shone through in all of his attacks.  He made sure to follow up his devastating combos with his Fire Jump Punch.  He was swift, dancing and darting around the F-Zero racer and catching him off guard whenever possible.  He took the uncontested power of a Falcon Punch without losing a stock.  He was so strong that he could spin around with him a few times before throwing him off the stage.  And he was the only Smasher with a damaging taunt.

            “Try this one on for size, L!” cried Captain Falcon when he finally had Luigi at the edge of the stage.  “FALCOOOOOOON PAAAAAAAAAWNCH!”

            “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”  screamed Luigi as he was sent beyond the upper blastline and Star KO’d.

            “The power of the falcon wins,” gloated the Captain.

            “I’m not done yet!” interjected Luigi from behind him.  Falcon whirled and found himself face-to-face with a very determined plumber.  “My Star Power defies your fabled Falcon Punch!”

            “We’ll see about that,” smirked Falcon.  “Now, show me ya moves!”

            “You want moves?  You got them!” cried Luigi as he lunged at the Captain.

            “Now, L, no matter what happens today, we’ll still be friends, right?” asked Falcon, some trepidation in his voice, as they battled more furiously than ever.

            “That’s right,” giggled Luigi.  “We’ll still be friends.  Best friends!”

**_“You’ve got a friend in me_ **

**_You’ve got a friend in me_ **

**_You got troubles and I got ’em, too._ **

**_There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you._ **

**_We stick together, we can see it through._ **

**_Cause you’ve got a friend in me._ **

**_You’ve got a friend in me…”_ **

**2001**

            _Knock-knock-knock_!  Captain Falcon rapped briskly on Luigi’s door, praying that he’d open it.  What he was about to do was tough enough, so he wanted it over and done as soon as possible.

            The door opened, revealing Luigi, his face frozen in a stoic expression.  “Can I help you?” he asked coolly.

            Falcon held up the box of cookies in his hand.  “I brought you some cookies,” he said sheepishly.  “A little birdie told me that these are your favorite kind.”

            “We both know that you eavesdropped on Peach and Mario,” scoffed Luigi.  “Now, stop avoiding the question.  What do you want?”

            “Look, L.  I feel bad about what happened yesterday.  I shouldn’t have made that crack about the Green Missile being a carbon copy of Skull Bash, and…”

            “That’s right.  You shouldn’t have,” Luigi broke in, his voice hard.

            “I just want you to know—I didn’t mean it, not a single syllable,” Falcon said softly.  “It’s just—I was cranky because I lost, and I wanted to feel better…”

            “…so you took it out on me,” finished Luigi, still in a frosty tone.

            “…I did,” sighed Captain Falcon, “and I want you to know how sorry I am for doing that.  I don’t think your Green Missile is a clone.  It’s unique.  It makes you unique.  It makes you faster.  Stronger.  More powerful.  It’s way different from Skull Bash—scratch that—it’s _better_ than Skull Bash, if you look beneath the surface.  It even moved you up the tier list.”

            “Oh, please.  You’re just trying to butter me up.  And you’re lucky I decided not to tell Mario on you.”

            “I solemnly swear on my Blue Falcon that I will never say such a thing again,” vowed Falcon.

            “You have no idea how much I want another round with you,” said Luigi, still hard, but less coldly.

            “Actually, I do,” said Falcon.  “And now, please accept this peace offering as a token of my remorse for my words.”  He handed Luigi the box.  “Is there any way you can forgive me?”

            “I’ll think about it,” Luigi said finally.  “Okay?”  He was starting to smile a little.

            “Okay,” said Falcon.  This was a good start.  “See you round?”

            “Maybe.”

            Falcon left feeling a million pounds lighter.

            A few days and extravagant gifts later, Luigi finally said “Yes”.  But Falcon’s allowance would be quite significantly relieved before he allowed him to live this down!

**_“Some other folks might me a little bit smarter than I am,_ **

**_Bigger and stronger, too…_ **

**_Maybe_ **

**_But none of them_ **

**_Will ever love you the way I do_ **

**_It’s me and you, boy…”_ **

**2014**

            “You sure showed them,” laughed Falcon.

            “Indeed, I did,” chuckled Luigi.

            They left the Mario Kart racetrack, Luigi holding the big, golden cup, as employees scrambled to clear twisted pieces of scrap metal off the track, put out fires, and get injured racers to the nearest hospital.  The asphalt was littered with black skid marks, scorch marks, and shards of glass.  Toads carrying stretchers scuttled past to aid those who unfortunate to come between Luigi and his mean shells.  High-pressure hoses hissed as they put out the red-orange flames, leaving soot-blackened husks that were once cars.

            And this was all Luigi’s handiwork.

            They ended his year.  They bumped him back to the Player Two slot.  But all actions came with consequences, and this was a doozy.  Luigi did not take kindly to having this stunt pulled on him, and he showed it during this race as he mercilessly targeted anyone who tried to take the first place spot from him.  He unleashed his rage in the form of green, red and spiny blue shells, and as he passed the dim-witted soul, he gave them a look which he hoped they’d carry to the grave.  Captain Falcon witnessed it all from beginning to end, and he started to think that his friend had enough mettle to take on F-Zero.

            “I’m almost scared to fight you in the next tournament,” quipped Falcon.  “That was something else!”

            Luigi blushed.  “My blood was just boiling, that’s all,” he explained.

            “I thought kart racing was for fun, though,” said Falcon.

            “With everything that’s happened to me, I don’t have time for fun,” replied Luigi.  “They’ve got to understand that I’m still capable, even though my year is over.”

            “You _are_ capable,” Falcon reassured him.  “You’re still a starting character, and the Hands gave you a big Thumbs-Up.  You have _my_ Thumbs-Up especially.”

            “Thank you, Douglas,” Luigi told him. “You’re one of the few people who truly care about me.”

            “Hey, I’m here for you, L,” promised Falcon.  “Always.”

            “Good to know,” said Luigi.  “Now, how about we get something to eat?”

            “Good idea.”

            Hand in hand, they headed towards the nearest restaurant.

**_“And as the years go by,_ **

**_Our friendship will never die._ **

**_You’re gonna see it’s our destiny._ **

**_You’ve got a friend in me._ **

**_You’ve got a friend in me._ **

**_You’ve got a friend in me…”_ **


	3. A Really Deep Cut

**A Really Deep Cut**

**_Cause, baby, now we’ve got bad blood!_ **

**_You know, it used to be mad love!_ **

**_So take a look what you’ve done!_ **

**_Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!_ **

**_Now we’ve got problems,_ **

**_And I don’t think we can solve them…_ **

**_You made a really deep cut—_ **

**_And baby now we’ve got bad blood, hey!_ **

****

            Quiet in the room.

            The two men stood there, staring at each other.  Slight tremors wracked Douglas’s body, and his chest and throat felt tight as he realized what he just said.  A wave of nausea passed over him when masked eyes met wounded blue eyes.  He would never, in a million years, imagine putting someone down like this.  Despite some truth in his words, that was a low blow.  He was tired of the accusations against him and wanted a comeback, and of all the subjects in the world, he had to touch upon that one.  He felt triumphant and stupid at the same time.  Sweet Lord, he’d just put one of his best friend’s greatest fears into words.

            “I—I—I—I didn’t…” Douglas began, and that was when the hurt and disbelief in Luigi’s eyes morphed into something else.  Something uglier and nastier. 

            Hatred.  Wrath.  Malevolence powerful enough to make the tremors in Falcon’s body increase slightly.  “I swear—I didn’t—please…”

            “You,” gasped Luigi, fists clenching.  “You did not just say that.  You did NOT just say that.”

            “L—please—I spoke out of turn—I’m sorry…”

            “You.  Said.  _That_.”  Confusion, shock and pain vied with the anger in the accented voice.

            “I didn’t mean it.  Not a word…”

            “Do you have any idea how many _times_ I felt burdensome to Mario during our adventures?  Do you have the slightest _clue_ of my guilt whenever he got hurt on my watch?  Are you _aware_ that those feelings have gone away—until _now_?!”

            “I—I—I just—I…”

            “I can’t believe _you_ , my best friend, would say something like that.”

            “I was angry…”

            “So?  What’s that for an excuse?  You think it’s okay to say things like that just because you’re _angry_?!  Well, it’s not!  And _now_ look what you’ve done!”

            Falcon’s heart was doing a hundred and fifty.  Icy sweat dribbled down his face and coated his palms.  The sight of his best friend, fighting back tears on his account, seared into him like a brand.  And what he was saying hurt more—because he was right.  Angry, annoyed or not, he had no right to lash out as he had.

            “All I asked of you was to see that you went overboard in your match against my bro,” Luigi went on in a choked voice.  “That’s all I asked!  But, no.  You had to open your mouth and make a bigger mess.  Proud of yourself?”

            “I—I wasn’t…”

            “You weren’t thinking?  No, you weren’t, or you would’ve known that it was going to hurt me.  I was a fool expecting better from you.  Mario probably wants to see me now, so that’s where I’m going.  You need to be gone when I get back.”

            Briskly, he turned and stalked away.

**_“Did you have to do this?_ **

**_I was thinking you could be trusted!_ **

**_Did you have to ruin what was shiny?_ **

**_Now it’s all rusted!_ **

**_Did you have to hit me where I’m weak?_ **

**_Baby, I couldn’t breathe!_ **

**_And rub it in so deep,_ **

**_Salt in the wound like you’re laughing right at me?_ **

**_Oh, it’s so sad to think about the good times, you and I…_ **

            “Don’t worry, he’s going to be okay,” said Dr. Mario.  “Just give him time to rest, okay?”

            “Okay,” said Luigi, his voice shaky.

            “As for you, you don’t look so well.  Are you all right?”

            “Ask Falcon,” Luigi spat back, “He’ll love to tell you how much I need Mario out of this hospital.”  Abruptly, he left.

            Mario had a few bandages on him, and an ice pack was on his face.  Courtesy of Captain Falcon.  He brightened instantly when Luigi walked in.  “Some fight, huh?” he chuckled.

            “Yeah, it was,” Luigi replied.  “How are you feeling?”

            “Never better,” said Mario.  “I just didn’t know he was that strong.”

            The bros held hands, Luigi trailing absentminded fingers through his elder sibling’s hair.  And it was through their blood bond that Mario sensed something amiss.  “What happened?” he asked.

            Luigi took a big breath.  “Douglas.  _He_ happened,” he growled.

            “Sounds like you two had a big fight,” said Mario.  “Were you—fighting over me?  Bro, don’t let this hurt your friendship.”

            “It’s not just that,” Luigi said softly.  “Despite him losing his cool on you, I would’ve forgiven him.  I wanted him to acknowledge that he overreacted, that was all.”

            “Then what did he do to anger you so?”

            “It was something he said.  He said that—I’m whiny, needy and dependent on you, and that I can’t do anything right by myself, or even defend myself…”  And as Luigi recounted every last word of Douglas’s tirade, deep sobs tore from him, thick tears splashing from his face and onto the hospital bed.

            Instinctively, Mario pulled his _fratellino_ close, letting him cry it all out, stroking his back and whispering consoling words.  Slowly, the sobs dwindled into sniffles, and the sniffles into nothing.  The hurt and heartbreak was gone, and the only emotion he had left was anger.

            And the same could be said for Mario.  “He said that?  To you?” he snapped.

            “Yes.”

            “Just you wait till I get out of here.  He’ll rue that day!” vowed Mario.

            “It’s okay, bro.  I’ll take care of him.”

            “What do you have in mind?”

            “You’ll see,” Luigi said venomously, “and so will Falcon.”

**_Did you think we’d be fine?  
Still got scars on my back from your knife!_ **

**_So don’t think it’s in the past!_ **

**_These kinds of wounds, they last and they last!_ **

**_Now did you think it all through?_ **

**_All of these things will catch up to you!_ **

**_And time can heal, but this won’t—_ **

**_So if you’re coming my way, just don’t!_ **

**_Oh, it’s so sad to think about the good times, you and I…_ **

            Falcon paced his bedroom, his mind in turmoil.  How could he do this?  How could he be so blind?  He didn’t stop to consider the consequences before blurting out those fateful words.  Now, Luigi was stung and dealing with those old feelings, and it was his fault.  All his fault!  In his gut, he knew that this was nothing like the scraps they had in the past.  This was serious.  How he’d make this up, he had no way of knowing.

            Someone knocked on his door.

            Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Falcon opened it, and his brows raised in surprise.  “Kirby!”

            “Poyo,” said the puffball.

            “I didn’t mean to disturb you.  It just—I have something on my mind, and I can’t sleep,” explained Falcon.

            “Poyo. Poyo, poyo.  Poyo.”

            “Yeah, maybe I did get a little too rough with Mario, but I didn’t mean to, and…”

            “Poyo.  Poyo-poyo-poyo-poyo-poyo-po-poyo-poy.”

            “As a matter of fact, we just had a fight, and some words were said.”

            “Poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo?”

            “Of course!  I could use your help.  But are you sure a cake is going to work?”

            “Poyo!”

            Falcon grinned.  “Okay.  Let’s get cooking!”

**_“Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes._ **

**_You say sorry just for show._ **

**_You live that that; you live with ghosts._ **

**_Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes._ **

**_You say sorry just for show._ **

**_You live like that; you live with ghosts…_ **

**_If you love like that, blood runs cold!_ **

            The good news was that Mario would only be kept overnight for observation.  That was no surprise, considering the amount of mushrooms he ate.  He would be back in action in no time.

            The bad news was that Falcon’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in Luigi’s brain.  And the very thought of someone snapping at his baby bro nagged at Mario, which caused him stress, which alarmed Dr. Mario.  But no doubt about it, Luigi was the most affected of the three.  Douglas was supposed to be his friend!  He was supposed to understand his feelings of obscurity back in his own universe!  The very man who laughed with him, supported him, and even defended him on some occasions was now the enemy.  Oh, how he _hated_ him.  Friend or foe, _no one_ cut him down with such hurtful words and got away with it.  And to think a time would come when Douglas would have the gall to commit such an offense!  He thought back to the quarrels they had patched up in the past.  But this one was more severe.  There was no going back; all bets were off.  What Douglas Jay Falcon had spat at him in Dr. Mario’s office was unforgivable.  He never wanted to see him again.

            _So much for best friends forever_ , Luigi thought to himself as he stared at a photo of the two together.  That photo seemed a lifetime ago.  Something foul swelled in his throat, and with a yell, he threw the photo against the wall, cracking the picture frame.

            He felt his pulse speeding up and his palms becoming clammy.  He needed release, he needed a Sandbag, and he needed it now before he destroyed his own room.  Quickly, he bounded down the hall toward the Training Room, where he pounced upon the first Sandbag he saw.

            As Luigi emptied everything onto that Sandbag, all he could think was, _unforgivable, unforgivable, unforgivable_.  In the space of a few seconds, a 16-year friendship was dead.  No trinkets or apologies could unsay those horrible words; he could not stand to be in the same room with that man anymore.  _I hate him.  I HATE him.  I hate everything about him.  I hate that I befriended him.  I don’t want him around me ever again._   And eventually, even those thoughts were washed away by sweat and punches and leftover tears.

**_Cause baby, now we got bad blood!_ **

**_You know, it used to be mad love!_ **

**_So take a look what you’ve done!_ **

**_Cause baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!_ **

**_Now we’ve got problems,_ **

**_And I don’t think we can solve them!_ **

**_You made a really deep cut—_ **

**_And baby, now we’ve got bad blood, hey!_ **


	4. Too Late to Apologize

**Too Late to Apologize**

            Falcon’s feet felt like lead as he headed down the corridor to Luigi’s room.  In his hands was a nice-sized cake he baked with Kirby’s help.  _God in Heaven, please make this work_ , he prayed as he drew closer.  Quickly, he ran the words he planned to say over and over in his mind.  Tell him he was sorry, offer him the cake, and make everything okay again.  Maybe he’d say he was sorry, too, for the accusation he hurled at him.

            He was here.  One hand balanced the cake, while the other one knocked three times on the door.  Alligator-sized seconds ticked by.  Falcon’s stomached writhed like Galloping Gertie.  Silence behind the door.  The smell of cake and confectioner’s sugar did nothing to settle his insides.  _He has to still be in here.  Please, make him still be in there.  L, please, open up so I can right this wrong between us.  I promise, I’ll make it up to you_.

            The knob turned.  The door slid open without so much as a creak.  Falcon took a step back as Luigi emerged.  He’d just finished his toilette when he heard the knock, and he was not happy to see who’d stopped by.  “Oh.  You,” he said finally.

            “Good morning, L.  It looks like a beautiful day,” said Falcon, attempting small talk.  “You certainly seem ready for it.”

            Luigi said nothing, letting his eyes talk for him.

            Falcon cleared his throat.  “Look.  Yesterday, I think we both said things that were out of line.  Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that you were incapable of anything without Mario’s help.  And I shouldn’t have brought back those self-loathing feelings.  But then you were just trying to make me look like a bad guy, so…”  He cleared his throat.  “Anyway, how about a peace offering—or rather, a piece of cake offering?”

            He removed the cover, unveiling the pastry.  It was a three-tiered cake, frosted all over with green, with the letter “L” iced on top.  For the finishing touch, a Falcon figurine, with a speech bubble saying, “Yes!  You are number one!” was perched atop the cake.

            Luigi blinked.  “First, you send Mario to the hospital.  Then, you go off on a tirade about how clingy I am.  And all you have to offer me is—cake?”

            “I was up all night baking this,” said Falcon.  “I did it to help you feel better.”

            “You think that after we gorge ourselves on cake, all of this is supposed to magically disappear?” asked Luigi.

            “No,” said Falcon.  “I want you to know that I’m truly sorry for everything I said the other day, and since actions speak louder than words…” He indicated the cake.

            “I hate to bear bad news, but—you’re too late,” announced Luigi.

            “Wha—what do you mean?” asked Falcon.

            “I mean that I already made my decision about you,” Luigi replied in a steady voice.  “You already had your chance to apologize, and you blew it.  Your little rant was unforgivable, and you know it.”

            “But I…”

            Luigi silenced him.  “I’m not going to argue with you over this.  I want you to go.  Right now.”

            “You’re joking,” choked out Falcon.  “One little blowup, and you’re giving up on us?  C’mon, L, give me another chance.”

            “Just get out of here, all right?  Just leave.”  Luigi’s voice rose slightly.

            Falcon heaved a sigh, realizing that Luigi meant business.  “I’ll give you some time,” he said quietly.

            “No,” said Luigi, emotion worming its way into his voice.  “I want you out of my life.  I don’t want to see you ever again.”

            Falcon closed his eyes, blind with pain, as Luigi closed the door.

 

            It was breakfast time in the cafeteria.  Falcon could barely eat, the finality of Luigi’s words spearing into him.  He was angry at a lot of people right now, at Mario for setting this in motion, at Kirby for wasting his night on a failed effort, and at Luigi for throwing in the towel so quickly.  But mostly, he was angry at himself for his big mouth.

            What more could he have said?  Was it better to have just walked away and let him cool off?  Would it have worked to try and explain his actions to Mario in private?  Could he have held back a little more during the match?  Whose fault was it really that he was sitting in the cafeteria, picking at his food?

            His chain of thought was broken when Peach stormed up to him, eyes brimming with tears.

            “How could you?” she hiccupped.  “How could you say something like that after everything he’s done for you?”

            “Wait.  How did you…?” stammered Falcon.

            “Word gets around quickly,” Peach said smartly.  “If something happens to either of those brothers, I’m going to find out sooner or later.”

            “I said I was sorry, Princess,” said Falcon.

            “Do you know what ‘sorry’ is?” Peach demanded of the racer.  “It’s just a word.  A single, little word.  Now, you tell me how a _word_ is supposed to undo the distress you’ve wrought upon him.”

            Falcon struggled for words, but he found none.

            “That’s right.  It does nothing.  ‘Sorry’ does not have any healing powers or extra lives.  It’s nothing but a mere word, a get-out-of-jail-free card.  And it’s not going to change the fact that you made Luigi extremely upset.”

            “I know you and Mario are upset, and you have every right to be,” began Falcon, “but the fact of the matter is, I didn’t mean for those words to come out.  They just—slipped out.”

            “And in the process, you’ve made a powerful enemy in my kingdom,” Peach said severely.  “It’s going to take a lot of convincing for me not to sever my diplomatic ties to you.  You see, Douglas, an attack on Luigi is an attack on Mario.  And an attack on Mario—is an attack on Nintendo, and on my people.”

            Falcon’s stomach plunged, and whatever remained of his appetite vanished.

            “For goodness sake, let me try and talk to Mario,” he beseeched.

            Peach nodded.  “Just this once.  I doubt that it will do anything, though.”

            As she left to speak with Mario, Falcon took his tray and dumped its contents into the waste bin.  Then, he collapsed back in his seat, like a criminal preparing to face the grand jury.

            A throat cleared beside him.

            Falcon jumped, finding himself face-to-face with Mario.  An expecting look was on his face.

            “Oh!  Hi, Mario,” said Falcon.

            “You wanted to talk to me?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

            “Mario, please accept my sincere apology,” said Falcon.  “I—I didn’t know what I was thinking.  Maybe my bravado overruled my common sense.  It probably did.  But I would never want something like this to happen to you or your brother.  Believe me.”

            Mario just looked at him.  “Then why did you let it?”

            “He—he’s hysterical right now,” Falcon went on.  “I am asking you to talk some sense into him, before he makes a grave mistake.  One little match cannot kill a friendship.”

            “It wasn’t the match,” Mario said quietly.  “It was what you said to him while I was recovering.”

            “Don’t you understand?  If you let your brother do this, then I don’t know what to do.”  Falcon hated the pleading tone in his voice.  “I’ve never had a friend like him.”

            “You should’ve thought of that earlier,” Mario said to him, “and you know what?  I agree with him.  He can’t look at you the same way again—and neither can I.”

            “You, too…?” He fought to keep the undercurrent of frustration out of those words.

            Mario spread his hands.  “I have nothing more to say on the matter except that I no longer count you among my friends.  And once you fall out with the face of Nintendo—you’re bound to fall out with everybody.  Have a nice life.”

            Falcon watched, mute, as Mario walked away from him.  He noticed that everyone at Mario’s table was giving him dirty looks now.

            Quietly, he rose and left the area.

 

            Outside the main auditorium, the day’s lineups were tacked on the wall.  Falcon took the opportunity to skim through what was in store for him.  To his relief, there was a heavy lineup next to his name.  These matches would be enough to get his mind off of these unfortunate events!  However, the feeling of lightness was short-lived.  His finger skimmed down to the bottom of the chart.  That was when he saw his last opponent of the day…

            …Luigi.


	5. It's Come Undone

**It’s Come Undone**

            Douglas was right about one thing.  The day’s matches provided a sweet release from the past twenty-four hours.  But then again, beating up someone else always felt good after a rotten day, didn’t it?

            Unfortunately, the matches ended too quickly for Falcon’s taste.  And with each elapsing hour, his battle against his estranged friend loomed closer.  In his spare time, he tried to think of ways to get out of it, but he knew it was inevitable.  He had to face the consequences of his actions, and the upcoming bout was one of them.

            Adding to his stress, most of his opponents were good friends with the Mario Bros. and had learned of the harsh exchange the other day.  They wanted to make sure that Falcon was punished for it.  By the time the matches were over, Falcon’s muscles ached, and his ears rang.  He managed to win some of them, though, as he was just as ticked as them by now.  However, his victories were cold comfort, as they brought him one step closer to a match with someone he deeply hurt.

            _Well, if he’s going to be that way about it, then fine_ , Douglas thought bitterly.  _I’ll give him the fight of his life_.  But those thoughts sounded weak and hollow, as if from a kid attempting to act big.

            Time pressed relentlessly forward, Falcon plowing through the remainder of his matches, winning some and losing some, taking his pain out on all of his opponents.  Maybe it was from the heat of battle, but he felt a strange, wild fury overtake the guilt inside of him.  He wanted someone to pin the blame on, and what better person than Mr. Video Game Himself?  It was his unnerving spamming of his f-air, Cape, F.L.U.D.D and Super Jump Punch which set this mess into motion.  Suddenly, he desired a rematch with Mario, so he could really hurt him for what he’d done.  Part of him scolded that none of this was Mario’s fault, but it felt nice to scapegoat someone else for your own actions.

            Instead of dreading the upcoming bout with Luigi, Falcon was now looking forward to it.  Perhaps a few Falcon Punches would give him something to think about.

 

            To say that Luigi was pleased when he saw Douglas as one of his opponents would be a gross understatement.

            Most of his other matches were crammed in the morning, while they were more spaced in the afternoon.  Falcon would be his final opponent for the day and thus use the most of his energy.  While the morning’s lineup dulled the pain somewhat, the words were still imprisoned in his brain.  In Dr. Mario’s office, he had to restrain himself from smashing the F-Zero racer’s face in for what he said.  But luck was on his side.  He finally had an excuse to give him what he deserved.

            While Douglas spent the day mentally preparing himself for the confrontation, Luigi spent it working himself up.  The former methodically practiced his best moves on a Sandbag, whereas the latter allowed his feelings to simmer within him as he battled opponents.  The racer sat alone, taking small bites of his lunch, feeling dread creeping back and clashing with his eagerness.  The plumber sat with his brother and his friends, sneaking sidelong looks at the lone Captain, the pain and the happier memories hitting him hard and causing tears to spring to his eyes.  He didn’t know if it was rage, betrayal, hurt or confusion causing him to anticipate their fight.  But Douglas was a stranger to him now—he turned into someone else when he called him useless.

            The emotions presently tangled and jumbled themselves up inside Luigi, becoming an unrecognizable mess threatening to split his head and ravage his throat if it ever escaped him.  Could he really hold it in until the fated meeting?  He stopped looking at Falcon and concentrated on his food, taking several deep breaths.  Slowly, he counted backwards from one hundred as he distractedly ate a few mouthfuls.  The knowledge that Douglas was within walking distance from him in this cafeteria was simply unbearable.  Heat rose to his face, and a deep, resounding sob escaped him.

            Mario noticed, and he put a comforting hand on the small of his brother’s back.  “You okay?” he asked.

            “I—I can’t get it out of my head,” Luigi replied.

            “Want to go somewhere else?” offered Peach.

            Luigi nodded.  “I’d like that,” he said quietly.

            Out of the corner of his eye, Falcon noticed the three leaving.  For a moment, he considered making one final appeal to him, perhaps persuading him to call off the match.  But his pride won out in the end.  If he wanted it, then he’d get it.

            But Falcon wasn’t going to enjoy it.

 

            It was, finally, the moment.  As the minutes ticked down, Falcon suffered thoughts which loosened his bowels, and he ran into the bathroom, wishing he could just lock himself in there and forget everything.  He knew it would do no good, as it would only postpone the match.  As with all bad things, he wanted this over with so he could eat dinner and go to bed.

            Luckily, his Blue Falcon got him to the stage first.  He jumped out of the vehicle and signaled it to fly back to its garage.  He was thankful that the Smash Battlefield was the stage of choice.  The last place he wanted this to go down was Mute City.  And in his distracted state, he didn’t want to put up with any stage hazards.

            On the other side of the battlefield, a green Warp Pipe slowly emerged.  Out of it hopped Luigi, clad in his Wrecking Crew outfit.  Douglas involuntarily took a few steps back, trying not to look at him.  But he felt the eyes, tearing into him, and he knew that this match would be anything but pretty.

            The two stood there, waiting, not saying anything, because they had nothing to say.  After a few seconds, Falcon raised his head and met Luigi’s gaze, his lips upturned in a smirk.  He saw his opponent’s hands clench into fists, a light-green glow emanating from them.  He heard his breath come fast as their eyes locked.  He decided, right then and there, that he wasn’t going to play nice.  He wanted to win to feel better, and to get these people off of his back.  He honestly couldn’t wait to see the look on Mario’s face.

            “I bet you couldn’t wait to give everyone the scoop,” Douglas said finally.

            “For your information, the word spread on its own,” Luigi replied evenly, “and if I were you, then I wouldn’t try to make _me_ the bad guy.  Did you forget who started all of this?”

            _Your high-and-mighty brother did_ , Falcon wanted to say, but that would’ve been a death wish.  His eyes glowed through his black visor, a burst of fire briefly animating his left hand.

            Unfortunately for him, Luigi read his mind.  If he had any second thoughts about his actions earlier that day, then they vanished in a puff of smoke.  This man verbally assaulted him, and he had the gall to pin it on Mario.  Oh, yes—he was REALLY asking for it.

            “So, you think my big bro is to blame for this,” Luigi said tightly.  “Fine.  Prepare for the worst match of your life.”

            “Oh, we’ll see,” sneered Falcon, using his bravado to hide his unease.  “After I beat you, I’m going to tell all of the Smashers and everyone in your universe that I bested both of the Mario Bros.  Nobody will think you’re so invincible then.”

            Luigi’s mouth dropped open, but he said nothing.  Falcon was aware that he made the situation worse, but this darkness was taking over him.  He was taking his own guilt and projecting it onto his former friend.  And for the life of him, he couldn’t stop.

            The two men put up their dukes as Xander took his seat and shouted the four words which would start the match.

            “3…2…1…GO!!”         

 

            From the start, it was clear that Falcon was at a disadvantage.  Luigi had landed the first punch as he released torrents of emotions from his restraints.  Shouting angrily, he pounced on Douglas, slamming blow after blow into him.  His normally strong attacks were about four times as strong, and when Falcon managed to hit him, he barely flinched.  He grabbed the racer and fiercely butt-stomped him before blinding him with a flurry of karate chops.  When his victim tried to escape, he’d just grab and butt-slam him again and again until his rear ached.

            Nothing like this had ever been present in Smash Bros before.  Sure, there were a few intense battles, but the ferocity currently playing out left little to the spectators’ imagination.  Some had heard of the preceding events, and some hadn’t but quickly deduced it upon seeing Luigi’s uncharacteristic savagery against Falcon.  Normally, he’d be staggering in the face of the Falcon Punches, but now, he didn’t even give his opponent time to throw them.  And whereas Falcon would own foes with his knee jab, Luigi owned the racer with his hand jab.  Falcon found himself scuttling backward and shielding, searching for a way to break through.  Luigi was quite literally pushing him to the edge—punching, thrusting his palm forward, jump-kicking, karate chopping, grab-combo-ing.  Emptying.  Releasing.

            Douglas saw his chance when he realized that Luigi was losing his head.  Once he made a mistake, he’d be putty in his hands.  His attacks grew reckless and haphazard as emotion eclipsed strategy.  Falcon was even able to block some smash attacks.  At last, he dared to throw a few hard kicks and finally score a reverse Falcon Punch.

            “Come on!” shouted Falcon, further provoking the green plumber.

            Luigi breathed, hard and fast, aware of Falcon’s little game.  He let Douglas attack first, and then he grabbed and pummeled him before once again trapping him in a down throw combo.  Since Falcon used to hold a special place in his heart, he decided to make this combo special—agonizingly special.  As bones began to crunch, Luigi pounded the bounty hunter harder and harder until Douglas had enough and smashed his elbow into Luigi’s face.  He followed up with more of his flaming kicks and topped it off with five consecutive Raptor Boosts.  He could feel the smugness coming back; this reminded him of the way he turned the tables on Mario.  As Luigi struggled up, Falcon unleashed a shoulder charge, followed by some fully charged smash attacks.

            “What gives, L?” Falcon asked mockingly as he used Luigi as a green Sandbag.  “I want to see moves!”

            And then something collided with the top of his head, sending him reeling onto the stage.  Luigi had managed to jump into the air during the onslaught, and payback was in order as he twirled his feet under him, meteor smashing Captain Falcon.  He then popped him back up with his breakdance attack and nailed him with two misfired Green Missiles, KO-ing him.

            When Douglas respawned, the two men drank each other in.  Covered in blood, smeared with bruises.  Bones fractured.  Luigi’s nose, broken.  Clothing, dirty and tattered.  Wounded, excited and furious, and their target was the man standing across from them.  They were going to completely destroy each other in this fight.

            They charged at once and collided like two enraged wildebeests in bloody combat, blazing green versus fiery red fists, high kicks rocketing with echoing impact into bodies, shouts of rage and pain and bloodlust.  It was actually Luigi’s idea to grab Douglas by his scarf and start slamming his face against one of the platforms until the racer escaped and flipped his opponent over his shoulder.  Then, he commenced to Raptor Boost, Falcon Dive and Falcon Kick him mercilessly.  Finally, he smashed him to the floor, where he laid, blood pooling out of his nose and mouth and streaking like crimson veins down his face.

            It was almost how his brother looked before his defeat.

            Falcon slowly walked up to him, ready to unleash another Falcon Punch, but Luigi foiled his plan with a get-up attack.  A harsh knifehand thrust connected with Falcon’s torso, winding him.  Agony cannoned up his upper body, but Luigi didn’t stop there, instead turning on the upper body region with the precision of an executioner.  Fifteen more times, his left hand speared into Falcon, and then he hit him with the Cyclone attack, a couple of kicks, a flurry of overhand downward strikes and a brutal, blinding uppercut.  Falcon landed on his back, his head spinning, tasting his own blood.  His vision cleared in time to see Luigi astride him, teary eyes clashing with his masked ones.

            The audience murmured in confusion as they took in this scene.

            “How could you?” shouted the plumber.  “How could you?!”

            “You wouldn’t let me explain!” Falcon yelled back.  “Judging by how confrontational you were, it was waiting to happen!”

            Luigi shook him.  “I thought we had something special!” he sobbed.  “All this time, I stood by your side, and you stood by mine, as we took on the world.  And at my most vulnerable moment, you punched me in the gut!  Why??!!”

            “Let’s not forget that you gut-punched me, too,” spat Falcon.  “All you had to do was let this go, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but no.  You had to be a prima donna about it!  I guess I was telling the truth that day.”

            “Oh, so this morning you were so sorry for what you said, and now you’re standing by it?!  Make up your mind!”

            “Seeing how you’re acting at this moment, I have proof!” retorted Falcon.

            They grappled on the ground, clawing and getting in the occasional blow.  Douglas reared up and threw Luigi off of him.  “You say you want to be a hero, but how can you do that if you act like it’s the end of the world every time your brother gets hurt?” he taunted.

            Luigi gaped at him for the second time.  “Why, you little…!”

            A gasp from the audience interrupted him.  Both men looked up to see a Smash Ball floating in the sky, and then back at each other.

            From here, things got uglier.

            The mad dash for the Smash Ball.  The attempts to knock it out of the other’s reach.  The struggle over who would get to harness such power.  Each man callously flinging the other around to accomplish that end.

            It was Falcon who emerged with the Smash Ball’s aura.

            Luigi was riveted to the ground in disbelief.  “You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaimed in a gasping voice.

            Falcon tsk-tsked.  “So naïve.  Smash is a dog-eat-dog world, did you know?” he snickered.  “Looks like I get the victory spoils again, old friend.  COME ON!”

            The Blue Falcon rammed into Luigi at high speed.  He found himself on a racetrack, under a red, cloudy sky.

            “BLUE FALCOOOOOOOON!”

            Douglas drove his beloved racecar like a demon, grinning at the horror on his ex-friend’s face.  Exhilarated and forgetting everything else, he floored it, closing in on his hysterically screaming target.  _You’re about to eat my dust, plumber!_

            A direct hit. 

            The impact felt incredibly wrong, and yet incredibly— _right_.  Falcon knew that this was the last nail in the coffin of his and Luigi’s friendship.

            And he didn’t give a—

            **_PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!_**


	6. Hot Mess

**Hot Mess**

            One hour later, and it was over.

            After one high-octane hour, in which Luigi used one Final Smash and Douglas used two more, Xander called out, “Time!”

            In this ugly battle, Falcon had emerged victorious.  But, oh, what a high price for victory!

            When he was finally finished celebrating his victory, the reality crashed down on him—hard.  So hard, that he was now in Dr. Mario’s office, trying to watch TV as the good doctor tended to him.  He’d been informed that Luigi had been hospitalized as well, and as a precaution, he was in the opposite wing.

            Douglas silently cursed himself.  He’d just wanted the fight to be over and done, but he’d opened his big mouth (again) and let his temper and smugness cloud over rational thought.  Deep down, he still thought he could make things better, but this battle made them worse.  Yes, he felt a little better, but after the leftover epinephrine wore off, guilt settled in.  He didn’t even want to know how Luigi was doing.

            “I’ve never seen anything like that,” said Dr. Mario.  “What was going on out there?”

            “We just got a little hot,” said Falcon.

            “A little hot?  Judging by how both of you landed in my office, you two got pretty hot.”

            “Yeah, well, you’re a doctor,” grumbled Falcon.  “So, what do you care?”

            Dr. Mario whistled.  “Somebody’s cranky,” he observed.

            “You can thank those plumbers for that.”

            Dr. Mario gave Douglas a stern look.  “I know what happened between the two of you,” he said.  “You said some very hurtful things.  But trying to blame someone else won’t make things any better.”

            “Well, it’s true,” said Douglas.  “He overreacted, and Mario…”

            “Don’t pin it on him.  All he was doing was testing his strength against yours, and you know it.” Dr. Mario sighed.  “If I may, Luigi is taking this just as hard as you are, all right?”

            “Tell me about it.  He said he’ll never forgive me.”

            “That’s because you haven’t given him a reason to.  Look, just give him a few days to settle down, yes?  I’m sure he’ll change his tune.”

            “And if he doesn’t?”

            “Then I’m afraid you must accept the consequences of your actions.  Try to rest a while.  You’ll be out by morning.”

            Dr. Mario patted Falcon’s shoulder and then left to see about his other patient.

 

            Luigi lay in silence, hot tears streaming down his face, as Dr. Mario wiped the blood away and checked him for any serious injuries.  He ached in his muscles, but more so in his heart.  This fight was supposed to mark the worst of the storm.  The anger would’ve all burned away, and Luigi would’ve gained the closure he needed to move on with his life.  Sure, beating up Falcon felt good, but what he was really after was closure for both of them.  He would’ve been willing to give Douglas time to adjust and help him tie up loose ends before they parted ways.  Once the match had blasted away all of his anger, he would’ve tried to make this as painless as possible.

            But, no.  Douglas had to take it in a whole new direction, courtesy of his precious Blue Falcon and his big, obnoxious mouth.  Instead of cleaning up the mess, the match had worsened it.  Old wounds weren’t sewn back together—knives had been stuck deep to the hilt in them.  The anger, so close to receding, had exacerbated.  Douglas would never admit responsibility for any of this—he’d just keep on with the justifications.  Their fight had shown him that.  Now, more unresolved issues were in their wake.

            “Well, the good news is, none of your major organs are damaged,” said Dr. Mario.  “You’ll be out in two to five days.”

            “That’s good to know,” said Luigi.  “And Falcon?”

            “Probably tomorrow, I’ll let him go,” replied Dr. Mario.

            “Does Mario know…?”

            “Yes.  I’ll let you see him in a minute.”  Dr. Mario sat beside Luigi.  “All of this is taking me by surprise.  I never thought you two would do such a job on each other.  I mean, I thought you were friends.”

            “So did I,” Luigi said quietly.  “But yesterday proved otherwise.”

            “I know what he said was upsetting,” said Dr. Mario, “but you’ve forgiven him before.”

            “His words were just—callous,” said Luigi, “and bringing Mario into this was really asking for something.”

            “Are you going to be okay?” asked Dr. Mario.  “I can refer you to a psychiatrist if you wish.”

            Luigi smiled wanly.  “Thank you for the offer, but I think I can handle it,” he responded.  “I’ll take a business card if I change my mind, though.”

            “Sure,” said Dr. Mario.  He took one of his business cards, flipped it over, and scrawled down a name, an address and some contact information in black ink.  Then, he handed it to Luigi.

            “Thanks,” he murmured.

            “I don’t want to leave you,” Dr. Mario said truthfully as he made sure Luigi was comfortable.

            “Then don’t,” said Luigi.

            “I must,” sighed Dr. Mario.  “I have other patients to look after, and regardless of what they did, I’ve sworn an oath to give them the care they need.  If something happens, just give me a call, okay?”

            Luigi nodded.  “Okay.”

            And then Dr. Mario was gone.

 

            Falcon could hardly eat his dinner.  Unsettling thoughts of Luigi swarmed in his mind.  Dr. Mario had paid him a visit, telling him that Luigi would be hospitalized longer than him.  He was rattled, but he did his best not to show it.  Once alone, he drummed his fingers nervously on the hospital bed, pretended to be mesmerized by the football game on TV, and when that didn’t work, he stared out the window, willing himself to think positive.  It was an increasingly impossible task.

            Snippets of their heated exchange and even more heated brawl played over and over in Douglas’s head.  The more he replayed the words, the more he realized that he couldn’t toss responsibility onto someone else.  It was his fault, and his alone, that his long-time friendship with Luigi was hanging in the balance.  He felt guilty for upsetting his friend, and even guiltier for taking it out on him as well as pinning it on Mario.  He knew that visiting him after his release would be futile.  Like Dr. Mario said, they needed to spend some time away from each other.

            Eventually, Douglas fell asleep despite the questions and concerns whirling inside him.  And even there, he wasn’t safe from the guilt.

 

            Likewise, Luigi managed to get in small bites of his food, but for a different reason.  “What if’s” ran rampant in his soul, and he was trying so hard not to cry that he’d wind up choking the food back up.  He was so hurt that Douglas would use two Final Smashes on him without a second thought, especially since he was acting like he wanted to make up for his actions.  Maybe his remorse was a mask, an act.  One weird thing about the matches here was that they could expose a person’s true colors.  As night fell, he started to doubt if Douglas was even his friend at all.

            Somehow, brighter memories of their adventures together crept in during the night, more painful than the events leading up to their end.  He lost his battle against his tears, not caring who saw them.  He sobbed and he sobbed, mentally cursing Falcon and his racecar, until he finally cried himself to sleep.

 

            Two days dragged past.  During those days, Falcon would find himself at the door to Luigi’s hospital room, staring longingly at him, before reluctantly turning away.  Physically, Luigi began to heal, getting out of bed and walking around, even changing back into his regular clothes.  Dr. Mario was shocked at the speedy recovery.  He didn’t know if it was leftover aggression or hatred.  But he’d advise his patient to take each day slowly and encourage him to talk to someone about his feelings.

            “For goodness sake, Douglas is the last person you want to see right now,” he’d warn.

            Luigi tried to agree with Dr. Mario.  But he was so mad, so wounded and so damaged.  He couldn’t stop thinking about how they used to click or about what could’ve been.  He was cooped up in this room, and he needed a release.  Luckily, he would be out of here the next day.  And then—he decided not to think past that point.

            Meanwhile, Falcon would finish up in his room, glossing over old photos and also mulling over the “if only’s”.  Sometimes, he’d find himself in tears, tears of pain and regret.  He’d pray that once Luigi was released from Dr. Mario’s care, his heart as well as his wounds would be healed.  But the passing seconds weakened that hope.

            That evening, as he sat in the cafeteria trying to eat dinner, he saw Meta Knight fly over and take a seat next to him.

            “Meta!” he cried, surprised.

            “Douglas, we need to talk,” Meta Knight said solemnly.

            “If it’s about the fight…” began Douglas.

            “Please, listen,” entreated the masked puffball.  “I’ve had an experience similar to yours.  Kirby and I met someone we thought we could trust, but in the end, he was manipulating us for his own sinister purposes.  I understand the burden you bear, and that you want to put this friendship back together—but I fear that cause is lost.”

            “Only time will tell,” said Falcon.

            “Someone stabbed both me and Kirby in the back,” said Meta Knight, “and try as we might, we couldn’t forgive him.  I am an honorable knight, so I don’t judge—but from what I gathered, your offense against Luigi is just as severe.  And at that fight, you hurt him even more.”

            “I know.  I felt really bad afterwards.”

            “Listen to me.  I know your friendship was very strong, and you vowed that nothing would get in its way.  But there are words you can’t unsay and things you can’t undo.  It’s going to be hard, but once you realize that your bond is irreparable—you just have to let go.”

            Falcon sighed.  “I always wanted for it to go out on a high note, if that was the case.  I don’t want my last memory of my friendship to include an argument and a bloody fight.  But something’s up with Luigi, and—I just can’t talk to him right now.”

            “I’m certain that you two will come to terms and be ready to take that big step,” said Meta Knight, “but you have to stop with the defensiveness and scapegoating.  Can you promise me that?”

            “I…” started Falcon.  “…I’ll try.”

            “Don’t try,” Meta Knight said sternly.  “Do.”

            Falcon nodded.

            “Come to me if you need to talk to someone,” Meta Knight told him, and it sounded more like an order than a request.  And with that, he used his cape to teleport away.

 

            A fortnight later, Luigi was discharged from the hospital.  He was given only a few matches to ensure that he’d fully recovered.  In his spare time, he read books and magazines and did everything he could to keep his feelings under control.  Per Dr. Mario’s advice, he avoided Douglas and tried to steer his mind away from him.  But when he decided to hit a Sandbag for a few hours, he couldn’t help but pretend it was Douglas’s face in its place.

            For about two weeks, he managed to keep himself in check.  It looked like he was ready to break the news to Douglas and have the conversation which would help them move on from each other.  But alas, this did not last for long.

            It all began with a trash bin.  Luigi was passing by, on his way to get some fresh air.  But then, something in the bin caught his eye.  He ventured closer to get a better look and quickly wished that he hadn’t.

            An old photo of him and Douglas, with Luigi scribbled out in black marker.  His chest tightened as he discovered that there were more photos of them in the garbage, bent and crumpled, with Luigi either scribbled out, scratched out or cut to ribbons.  So this was what the Captain thought of him now!  Luigi had spent the past weeks endeavoring to prepare himself, yet Falcon always had to rip off the Band-Aid!  Throwing the photos back in the trash, he took a few steps back—and then he broke into a run.

            He didn’t know where he was headed—he just ran until his lungs hurt and his skin was hot.  He shuffled to a stop and gasped for breath, eyes closed.  At last, his oxygen and his mind were back, and his eyes slowly opened.

            By some manner of fate, he was now face-to-face with the Blue Falcon.  Why it was here instead of in the garage, Luigi didn’t know.  But he knew that those foul memories and feelings were dredging back up, and his blood pressure was rising.  He remembered the look on Falcon’s face as he propelled this car towards him.  It was too much.  All too much!

            Luigi didn’t realize that a Home Run Bat was in his hand until he was towering over the vehicle with it clenched tightly in his fist.  His breathing had gotten faster.  His eyes were ablaze with righteous fury.  Dr. Mario’s words were lost in the torrents of ire.  Screaming a curse, Luigi swung the Home Run Bat at the Blue Falcon with all his might.

 

            Douglas was jolted awake by the sounds of crashing and shattering.  “What the…?” he muttered, his mind foggy.  Quickly, he washed his face, jumped into his clothes, and went to investigate the noise.

            What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

            Luigi, his face nearly purple and striped with tears, was brutally assaulting his Blue Falcon with none other than a Home Run Bat.  With each blow, he screamed something unintelligible and sobbed more wildly.  The vehicle’s windows were all shattered, and the metal was nearly crumpled like a tin can.  Even when the car was obviously obliterated, Luigi continued to pound on the wreckage, his frustration destructively manifesting itself.

            “L!” called Falcon, rushing over and grabbing the plumber round his waist.  By Herculaneum effort, he managed to pull the hyperactive man away from the totaled car and coax the Home Run Bat from his hands.  Falcon continued to hold his ex-friend, who made no move to break away as he wept uncontrollably.

            “I’m so sorry, Douglas,” sobbed Luigi.  “I can’t take it.  I can’t take it.  For a hundred mushrooms, I just can’t take it.”

           


	7. The Way it Has to Be

**The Way it Has to Be**

            “I will admit that I deserved that,” Falcon said humbly.

            He and Luigi sat in the now-empty cafeteria, sharing the first quiet moment in what felt like a decade.  The latter had calmed down and was now assessing what he’d done and why.  His eyes, Douglas noticed, were kinder than the last time they were face-to-face.  Though he tried not to get his hopes up too high, it was hard to resist.

            “I’ll pay for it,” promised Luigi.  “Every penny.  Mario and I still run a plumbing business in Manhattan…”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Falcon broke in.

            “But…”

            “But nothing, L.  I can replace a racecar, but I can never replace you.”

            “Then would you mind explaining what I found in the trash can?” Luigi asked, calmly.

            “Oh, no— _that’s_ what set you off?” gasped Falcon.  “L—I was not in a good place when I did that.  I was having—a moment.  The aftershocks from our fight, I guess.”

            “I had some aftershocks, too,” confessed Luigi.  “Come to think of it, there’s something I have to tell you.”

            “I’m listening.”

            Luigi cleared his throat.  “When I arrived to battle you, I hoped that it would be the end of this.  You know, the whole thing about Mario being in the hospital and what you said to me in the office.  I honestly wanted that match to be the moment when the bitterness and anger passed, and when I’d be ready to talk to you about where to go from here.”

            “But—you sounded so aggressive,” said Falcon.

            “I know, and that was why I couldn’t be near you, as long as that aggression was there.  I had to get rid of it, and fighting you seemed like the best option.  And once it was all flushed from my system, I was going to sit down with you and have a talk about the words you said.”

            Falcon remembered Meta Knight’s words, and he suddenly found himself looking at the previous match with fresh eyes.  How could he have not known?  Luigi was going half-crazy with wild emotions, and how else would he have tamed them here?  Naturally, he used his bouts of the day to let them go.  What other choice did he have—besides self-destruct?

            “I’ve put you through so much pain,” sighed Falcon.  “I wanted your forgiveness, but—I haven’t done anything to earn it, haven’t I?”

            Sadly, Luigi shook his head.  “No.  You haven’t.”

            “I know it’s going to be no easy task, but I promise, I’ll find a way to make this up to you,” vowed Douglas.  “Whatever it takes.”

            Luigi bit his lip.  “It’s too late to earn my forgiveness now,” he whispered, “but despite what you did, I don’t want to leave you stranded.  It’s why I hoped to talk to you—we’re both rocked by this, and I think what we need is closure.”

            Falcon pondered this.  “You’re right,” he said finally.  “We do.  And I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me.  A friend of mine told me that once we cool off, we can talk about how we’ll move on.”

            “You spoke to Meta Knight?” asked Luigi.

            “How do you know?” queried Douglas.

            “I just do.”

            Douglas nodded.  “And—I’m sorry I Final Smashed you excessively like that.  I’ll admit that I went overboard on you.”

            “But you’ll never admit that you went overboard on Mario?”

            Douglas shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Only time will tell.  Truth is, I’m starting to feel that I don’t deserve your forgiveness—or Mario’s.”

            “We might not be able to forgive you for this—but perhaps it will hurt less,” offered Luigi.  “But I kind of discouraged you, too.  Pushing you away, yelling at you, and now this…”

            “Like I said, I deserved it, every bit.  The only person I blame is myself.”  Douglas lowered his head.  “I’ve tried to use you, Mario and anyone else I could think of as scapegoats, just so I could feel better.  But that backfired on me.  I know you were worried for Mario that day, and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.  But that’s fine—because it showed that you love him.  You’re not clingy or dependent—you’re loyal, outstanding and dependable.  You put other younger siblings to shame.  And—I should’ve thought about the effect my fighting Mario would have on our friendship before jumping into action.  _That_ I will readily admit.”

            “So, you didn’t mean what you said in the office,” murmured Luigi.

            “Not a single syllable.”

            Luigi felt his tears coming back.  “You’re finally opening up to me and taking some responsibility for your actions.  That’s a good start.”  He paused, eyes glistening, “but I still don’t think we can be friends like we used to.”

            “I think we need to follow the doctor’s orders,” said Douglas.  “We need time away from each other.  There are things both of us need to think about.  And after things have simmered down, would you be willing to reconsider?”

            Luigi closed his eyes as bulbous tears raced down his cheeks.  “I feel less angry now,” he managed to say.  “The episode with the car blasted it out of me.  But, when I look at you, or even think about you, I remember the moments we shared together, and then the biting words when you blew up at me.  I know you didn’t mean them, but still…”

            Falcon patted Luigi’s hand in understanding.  “I crossed a line that day, and I wounded you pretty deeply.  The words popped out before I could stop them.”

            “Right now, I’m not seeing the man I’ve known for sixteen years.  I’m seeing the man who brutally cut me down and essentially called me immature.  And it hurts—it just really hurts.”  By now, Luigi was speaking through his sobs.  “Hearing you say that you didn’t mean it won’t change the fact that you said it—and at the worst time, too.  And try as I might, I can never forget it.  It’s a scar inside me, a scar which will never go away, and if I look at you—that will just set it off.”

            He let out a guttural sob and went on.  “It’s best for both of us.  I’m sure seeing me won’t make your guilt go away, either.  But scars like this—they’ll never heal.  My life will go on, but this is something I’ll have to take with me.  And no amount of apologies will change that.”

            Falcon said nothing, for he knew Luigi was right.  He’d scarred him on the inside because he didn’t think.  He’d taken his friendship for granted because he thought it was invincible.  But it wasn’t.  It was as fragile as an old garment.  If a single thread came loose, then it would eventually unravel, despite numerous attempts to sew it back together.

            At last, Douglas spoke.  “I understand.  And if you need more space, I’ll quit these tournaments and go back to racing…”

            “No!” cried Luigi.  “I mean, we can still be fellow competitors, face each other on the battlefield or be allies in a Team Battle.  That won’t be a problem at all.”  He took a deep breath.  “We just—can’t get our friendship back.  It’s finished.  For good.”

            Instead of resisting, Douglas was now quietly resigned to this fate.  “I have copies of the photos I threw away,” he said.  “I’ll make a new album, and I’ll send it to you.  Let this friendship go out on a high note, instead of a tide of gloom, guilt, despair and what could’ve been.”

            “I agree,” Luigi said softly.

            “But—what about Mario and Peach?” asked Falcon.

            “I’m confident that they’ll find a way to remain civil with you, in spite of what happened,” Luigi assured him.  “But—I hope you can finally accept the finality of what you said and did.  There was a casualty—sixteen years of trust and love, damaged beyond all hope of repair.”

            “I know,” said Douglas.  “I know now.”

            “You were more than my friend,” said Luigi.  “You were a cheerleader, a light—a part of my heart.”

            “Ditto,” whispered Falcon.  He sniffled.  “I—I’m going to miss what we had, L.”

            “I’m going to miss this, too,” replied Luigi, “but this is the way it has to be.  Please understand.”

            Falcon choked up.  “I—I do.”

            The two men grabbed each other for one last bear hug.  It seemed like yesterday that they were at each other’s throats.  But now, they had fully processed the irreversible effects of what had been done and said, and they just wanted to seal it properly before parting ways.

            Douglas’s head rested on Luigi’s shoulder, and he felt the other man’s arms clasping round his back, like it would kill him if he let go.  Their tears were unstoppable, splattering onto clothes and skin, mixing and mingling with the other.  When they forced themselves to let go, the tears only came harder and faster.  Douglas grabbed Luigi’s hand.  “Promise me—you’ll remember.”

            “Always,” whispered Luigi.  “Will you do the same?”

            “Yes,” sniffled Douglas.  “Please, don’t hate me.”

            “I don’t hate you,” confessed Luigi.  “At least, not anymore.  But…”

            “I get it.  I take full responsibility.”

            “Trashing your vehicle was unacceptable, too.  We’ll share the responsibility.”

            Reluctantly, he let go of Douglas’s hand.  “Goodbye, Douglas,” he said.

            “Goodbye, Luigi.  And good luck.”

            “Good luck to you, too.”

            Luigi turned and headed for the door.  Standing in the doorway, he allowed himself one last look at the man he’d once trusted, a man who hurt him but still cared about him.

            Their final gaze spoke volumes.  But alas, there was no other way.

            At long last, Luigi stepped outside, the door clicking softly shut behind him.  Douglas listened to the sound of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

            He waited a few seconds and then opened the door a crack.

            There, he saw the retreating form of one of the first friends he ever made in this tournament, growing smaller and smaller as he walked further out of Douglas’s life.  Soon, he was no more than a green dot in the distance.

            The silence was enough for everything to slam into Douglas at once.  He crumpled to his knees, bawling like a child.

            “L—I’m so sorry—so sorry—I wish I had a second chance—I wish I had a second chance…”

 


	8. Back to December

**Back to December**

**_Three months later…_ **

            The crowd roared as the intense, three-way battle unfolded in the arena.  Embroiled in this free-for-all were Donkey Kong, Mewtwo and Captain Falcon.  The match was winding down to its final moments, and all three combatants were above 100%.  However, the high damage did not curb their admirable strength, as they continued to do everything in their power to knock one another off the stage as much as possible.

            Falcon had engaged the psychic Pokémon in aerial combat when he saw him.  Sitting in one of the back rows of the stands.  Beaming at him.

            No.  It was just a hallucination—it couldn’t be!  Yet when he blinked, he was still there.  Just as handsome as always, with his older brother by his side.  And he was—rooting for him.

            Their eyes locked, and Douglas dared to let his hopes soar.  Luigi’s face was kind, just like the moment they met, and he was actually staring him straight in the face.  Could that mean—no, not after what he said to him.  He’d made that plain and clear.  Yet there were times when he still longed to share a laugh and a smile with him.

            Then, Luigi allowed a broad smile to cross his angular features, and he flashed Douglas his signature “V” sign.

            And that was all the Captain needed to win.

**I’m so glad you made time to see me;**

**How’s life; tell me how’s your family?**

**I haven’t seen you in a while…**

**You’ve been good, busier than ever.**

**We small talk, work and the weather.**

**Your guard is up, and I know why…**

            Falcon and Luigi sat in the diner together, sharing an ice cream sundae and talking about the recent adventures in their lives.  It was just like old times—but not quite.

            “…and I heard that the Smash Ballot results are coming out soon,” said Douglas.  “I can’t wait to see who Master Hand plans to welcome to this tournament.”

            “Me, neither,” smiled Luigi.  “They say that Daisy has a high chance of winning.”

            “It would be great if she got the invite,” said Douglas.  “That way, all of the Mario gang will be able to Smash together—and you two lovebirds won’t have to spend so much time apart.”

            “Yeah,” Luigi said dreamily.

**Because the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind…**

**You gave me roses, and I left them there to die…**

            “I—was surprised when I saw you there in the stands, cheering for me,” Douglas admitted.  “In a good way, I mean.”

            “Douglas,” Luigi said, his voice serious.  “I cheered for you because I still respect you, and nothing else.”

            _I thought so_ , Falcon mused to himself.

**So this is me, swallowing my pride**

**Standing in front of you, saying I’m sorry for that night,**

**And I go back to December all the time—**

**It turns out freedom is nothing but missing you**

**Wishing I’d realized what I had when you were mine,**

**I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right.**

**I go back to December all the time.**

            “I see—life’s been treating you well,” Douglas said finally.

            Luigi nodded.  “It has.  And I guess life’s good for you.”

            “It is.”  Douglas dropped his eyes.  “Just not the same without you.”

            “Ditto,” Luigi said softly.

            “I meant what I said the last time we spoke,” Falcon stated, taking a chance.  “I’m really sorry for everything I put you through, and now that I’ve thought long and hard about it, maybe I _did_ go a little too far with Mario.”

            “You didn’t go a little too far,” Luigi told him.  “You went way too far.”

            “I did something abhorrent to both of you,” sighed Falcon, “and I’ve spent these past months wishing I could take it all back.”

            “Considering the gravity of it, I still think you have no chance of me forgiving you,” admonished Luigi.

            “I don’t ask for it,” Falcon said.  “I just ask for you to understand.”

            Luigi was silent for a moment.  “At least you finally owned up,” he murmured.  “If only you’d done it sooner, though…”

            “Yeah.  I guess I was too prideful.”

**These days, I haven’t been sleeping.**

**Staying up, playing back myself leaving,**

**When your birthday passed, and I didn’t call—**

**And I think about summer, and the beautiful times**

**I watched you laughing from the passenger side**

**And realized I’d loved you in the fall…**

            “I don’t mean to be pushy,” Falcon said after a few spoonfuls of sundae.  “It’s just that—when I saw you there, I started hoping.  I’ve always been hoping.”

            “I had that hope, too,” admitted Luigi.  “Looking at you became less painful.  I liked seeing you fight against opponents, and it felt just like the old days, with me cheering you on, and you cheering me on.”

            “As a matter of fact, I’ve seen you at your recent matches,” smiled Douglas.  “You were almost as energetic as our—last one.”

            Luigi had to blush at that.  “Seeing you hold your own reminded me of how much of a team we were, and I there was so much hope that maybe we could get some of the magic back.  But then, as I said that day, I still bear the scars, and they’ll always smart, no matter what.”

            “How’s Mario?  Is he still stung?”

            “It gets to him sometimes, too,” sighed Luigi, “but other than that, he’s okay, looking ahead as always.  He’s looking forward to a rematch with you.”

            “So am I.  And Peach…?”

            “You’re just lucky that she’s maintained diplomatic relations with you,” Luigi said.

            “Next time you see them, could you tell them that I’m willing to start over fresh, if they’ll give me the chance?” asked Douglas.

            Luigi drew in a breath.  “I will,” he promised. “I don’t know if they’ll be just as willing, but I will.”

**And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind.**

**You gave me all your love, and all I gave you was goodbye…**

            Falcon said his thanks with his eyes, and then the two men let the silence convey what else they wanted to say to each other, the moments of longing, missing, yearning and regretting, as they filled up on the creamy sweetness in front of them.  Despite the solemn air, the sight of ice-cream and toppings all over Luigi’s lips, ’stache and chin was quite comical.  That brought to mind the moments when something messy was on the menu, and that face smeared with the stuff as Luigi indulged in it.  He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

 **So this is me, swallowing my pride**  
Standing in front of you, saying I'm sorry for that night,  
And I go back to December all the time  
It turns out freedom is nothing but missing you  
Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine,  
I'd go back to December, turn around and change my own mind.  
I go back to December all the time…

            Finally, the sundae was eaten, and it was time for the men to part ways once again.

            “I’m glad I got to see you, one more time,” mused Douglas.

            “I’m happy I got to see you, too,” replied Luigi.  “I guess all those threads are finally tied, and we can truly move on.”

            “I guess so, too,” said Douglas.  “I feel a little better, like I can finally move past the guilt in me.  But can you move past the hurt I caused?”

            Luigi moved close and looked at him meaningfully.  “I don’t know.  Only time will tell.”

            Falcon opened his arms, and Luigi moved into them.  The familiar contact felt so good, and they missed it.  They hugged and they hugged, and inevitably, the embrace ended with lingering hints of “if only”.

            “Take care of yourself, Cap’n,” whispered Luigi.

            “You, too, L,” Douglas said tenderly.

            After one last squeeze, Luigi headed for the exit.

 **I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right…**  
And how you held me in your arms that September night,  
The first time you ever saw me cry…  
Maybe this is wishful thinking,  
Probably mindless dreaming…  
But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right.

            Falcon stood there, observing Luigi’s resolute step, swiping at his eyes.  No matter what, he still had the good times they shared together, and the realization that despite everything, he hadn’t lost Luigi’s respect.  With time, his conscience would clear—but it would take months, even years, to travel that tumultuous road.  But the conversation they just had was enough.  Just enough.

**I’d go back in time and change it, but I can’t.**

**So, if the chain is on your door, I understand…**

            Once he’d completely lost sight of Luigi, Douglas Jay Falcon, racer, bounty-hunter, Smasher and friend, turned on his heel and made a beeline for his repaired Blue Falcon.  A good drive would be just the thing to clear his head—and focus on what life held in store for him.

            Even then, though, he’d never forget Luigi Mario.

**But this is me, swallowing my pride**

**Standing in front of you, saying I’m sorry for that night—**

**And I go back to December all the time**

**It turns out freedom is nothing but missing you**

**Wishing I’d realized what I had when you were mine—**

**I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right.**

**I’d go back to December, turn around and change my own mind.**

**I go back to December all the time—all the time—**

**_Fin_ **


End file.
